


Dream

by daughterofvalkyries



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: After The Games, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:52:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daughterofvalkyries/pseuds/daughterofvalkyries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cato knew it was a dream almost instantly. It had been the same dream nearly every night for the last three weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream

**Author's Note:**

> I´m not quite sure of what this is, because it´s different from the portrait I usually make of Cato and Clove. I guess I wanted to show that they can be vicious and ruthless and bloodthirsty and still have feelings. Enjoy :)  
> P.S- I´m sorry if there is any mistake, I made my best to correct everything.

Cato knew it was a dream almost instantly. It had been the same dream nearly every night for the last three weeks. He was never the type of person who longed for sleep; he was too energetic, too full of potential to waste his time sleeping. Now, he laid in bed, evening breeze entering through the open window in the bedroom, waiting for the moment the familiar sets of images would flash under his eyelids. Everytime he closed his eyes, he would see her sitting against the same massive tree trunk. Because the summer air was warm and the walk had been long, she would let her naked feet rest on the grass. She stared at the mountains mirrored in the clear and still water of the lake. Clove never looked that relaxed again, not so close to be at peace with herself. It wasn't something he used to think of, what troubled that little, twisted mind of hers. If there was something bothering her, she would tell him and he would end the issue with his own hands if it came to it. Otherwise, he would leave her alone with her thoughts. Until he started having that dream, Cato never realized how it must have eaten her alive and how much more he could have done.

It would only last for a moment, that perfect image where there was only silence and the glow of her skin. Cato always tried to stretch that moment, to freeze it in time, like a painting made of memories and regrets. Her eyes would abandon the lake and turn to him, wide and full of something he couldn't quite unravel. Cato always found himself immersed in the intensity of her eyes, dark green like the forest behind his house. The corner of her lips would curl upwards and she would tell him to come over, to sit by her side. Cato sat close to her, their arms brushing against one another. They weren't the type of couple who talked much, they would rather talk with their bodies or not talk at all. In that dream, he felt like there was so much to say and not enough time to pour out all the words. He would wrap his arm around her thin waist and press her against his side, her head leaning on his shoulder. They stayed in silence for another short moment; everything in that dream was too short, feeling like sand escaping through the gaps between his fingers.  _ “I don't want to go back,”  _ her voice was soft and slow, as if she tried to taste the words as they melted in her tongue.  _ “I like it here. We could stay here.” _

He looked down at her, his lips pressed together into thin line.  _ “We belong there. It´s almost the same thing, just a different type of wildness.” _ She would nod at his words and reach for his hand, intertwining their fingers together.  _ “And I´ll come back for you,”  _ it was a whisper, only loud enough for her to hear. And, somehow, that was enough to bring a confident smile back to her lips. _ “I know. My boyfriend will be a Victor,”  _ she said, leaning in to catch his lips in her own.

Just as fast as it started, the dream would come to an end.  _ “I don´t want to go back,”  _ he would find himself saying. And he would think that only if he knew what price he would have to pay for victory, he wouldn't have volunteered. They were going to share the glory and fame; she only had to wait one more year. Time was never so expensive. Clove would laugh at his words and silence him with her lips They were never the talkative type. 

Just as fast as it had begun, everything would collapse. He would find himself blinded by darkness. The pressure of her skin against his would fade, the warmth radiating from her skin gone for good. Her laughter would be replaced by silence. That was the part of the dream he wished he could avoid, and the feeling of emptiness that would follow. In the darkness, he heard her voice, fragments of painful memories, _ “Cato! Cato!” _

When he woke up, the bedroom was cold and the sheets and pillows were messily piled on the floor. He would sit up, burying his face in his hands, as the only sound to be heard were the cries from the mountains.


End file.
